


Survivors

by twyly56



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Arthur Ketch & Mick Davies Friendship, British Men of Letters, Character Death, Gen, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt Mick Davies, Men of Letters Bunker, Mick Davies Lives, Murder, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Arthur Ketch, Psychopathology & Sociopathy, Research, Vulnerability
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-30 20:48:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15104600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twyly56/pseuds/twyly56
Summary: Ketch doesn't want to kill Mick, so he kills Dr. Hess instead, and takes his friend to the Bunker.





	1. Violence is Always the Answer

**"The Code is what makes a young boy kill his best friend."**

-Mick Davies 

Arthur Ketch didn't have friends. Not really. He lost interest in having them after he went past the initiation. Getting close to anyone would be a weakness he couldn't afford. Despite all that, he found himself inexplicably drawn to the other teen, a brunette boy with grief shining in his bright blue eyes. Arthur, who was by now beginning to realize his standard lack of emotions was not normal, made an effort to seek him out. Anyone else would have just been scared of him, but Mick was different. He actually didn't mind talking to the school's resident psychopath. 

Their relationship was almost all business. He helped Mick with the field work and fighting while Mick taught him better ways to research and study. Arthur also deterred the ruder members of their age group from messing with the boy. Mick was... his partner or perhaps a very good acquaintance. In no circumstance would he ever say the word friend. The time he had had a friend of any kind, well, they died. He didn't like to think about  _him._ Even for someone like Arthur, it was a sensitive subject. 

When their class graduated, Mick surprised him by wrapping his arms around him and hugging him. No one ever hugged him. The touch was warm and firm, nothing at all like he was used to. He had tentatively hugged back after a few moments of shocked stillness. Mick let him go not very much later, but it stuck with him for quite some time. It didn't happen again. 

Arthur went to several different places after graduation, rapidly becoming in high demand due to his ruthless and brutal efficiency. Mick went to the main location in London in a more intellectual position. They didn't interact as much as they used to, seeing each other maybe a few times a year whenever he had to go to London for an assignment. It was nice, chatting or just sharing a bottle of Scotch together. Almost like... no, still not friends. 

When Mick left on assignment to the States, Arthur was mildly curious. He was especially curious when he got called there to aid the American hunters in their quest to stop the Devil. Arthur did as asked, naturally. He noticed how Mick seemed to be liking the Americans. Mick appeared to understand them and their odd philosophies. Arthur supposed it made some sort of sense if one were to look at it objectively. It was most curious, indeed. 

But when Dr. Hess flew from London personally and told him to bring Mick to her, Arthur knew something was up. And decided to prepare accordingly. 

 

Mick walked down the hall and unlocked the door to the library. He entered, spotting Arthur standing beside the table, a stack of papers in his hands. 

"Ketch?" Mick said. He descended the short steps to come closer. "Why'd you call me here?" 

Arthur looked up, his murky grey gold eyes blinking. He closed the folder. 

"Oh. I didn't," he replied.

Arthur flicked his gaze at the archway behind him and walked off to a different corner of the room. A woman with auburn hair pulled back from her severe face in a tight bun walked into his sight, her pointed black heels clacking against the wood floor. Mick stiffened. 

"Mr. Davies," she greeted primly. 

"Dr. Hess," he answered in forced politeness. "I didn't think you left London."

"I don't. But I have been tasked by the other Elders to fix this rapidly deteriorating situation." 

Mick swallowed and watched her pace near him. His heart thudded out of rhythm. 

"Ma'am, look, please-" 

"Are you about to tell me that you are doing the best that you can?" Her stern eyes bored into his. "Two days ago, according to your own report, you let a Prince of Hell escape. And the mother of Lucifer's child. And one of my best men was murdered by an American hunter whom you allowed to live!" 

Mick held out his hands.

"Ma'am, if I could just-" Dr. Hess cut him off again. 

"Those hunters are out of control. The brothers Winchester in particular. Which Lady Bevell has extensively documented."

"Ma'am, if you would just listen-" he tried again.

"To what? More excuses?" She shook her head. "No, I don't think I will." Mick pursed his lips, literally biting his tongue to avoid snapping back at her. "Hunters are like dogs. You give them an order, and they obey. That's how it works. So. Tell me. Do they? Do they obey you?" 

Mick looked back at Arthur standing behind him. Arthur inclined his head, multicolored eyes glinting in the artificial light. He didn't offer anything useful other than perhaps vague amusement, so Mick turned his gaze back to the Doctor. 

"No. No, they don't. Of course not," she said. "So, Ms. Eileen Leighey will be found and killed in accordance to the Code. As for the Winchesters, as any rebellious hunters, they will be investigated. And if found guilty, executed." 

"If?" Mick scoffed. "If they're found guilty? All the hunters we try are found guilty." Her thin lips thinned out even more.

"Be careful, Mr. Davies," she warned. 

"No. My entire life with the Men of Letters, I never broke a rule. And yes, at first, I was shocked at how Sam and Dean operated, but what should be mentioned is the lives they've saved, monsters they've destroyed. And outcomes that they've bet on, not because of the Code, but because of Sam and Dean's sense of what's right." 

"And that is the crux of the matter. The Code is not a suggestion. It is absolute. The Code is what separates us from the monsters. It is the order by which we all live," Dr. Hess said. Mick shook his head. 

"No. The Code is what makes a young boy kill his best friend. When I was a child, I had nothing. I owed you everything. I obeyed. But I'm a man now, Dr. Hess, and I can make my own choices. And I choose to do the right thing!" Mick stated emotionally. 

He heard a gun click behind him, and his heart stuttered to a halt. An incredible burning pain erupted in his left calf, and he cried out, falling to his knees. Another silenced shot rang out in the quiet library. His blue eyes widened as the Doctor's body crumpled in front of him, an oozing bullet hole between her eyes. He looked up at Arthur, who was sliding his pistol back in its holster. Arthur reached down and scooped him off the ground. Mick kept applying pressure on his wound. 

"What was that, Ketch?! You shot me," he spluttered. Arthur shrugged, wrapping a thick gauze around his lower leg. 

"It was that or kill you, I'm afraid. I didn't want you to get in the way, so I had to make sure you moved, preferably down," Arthur explained. 

"So you had to bloody _shoot_ me?" 

"I am sorry. But it seemed the easiest way to get you to duck. Now, shush. We have to leave before they notice." 

Mick closed his mouth, gritting his teeth at the pain still throbbing in his calf, and let the other man carry him through the dark hallway. Surprisingly enough, they didn't run into anyone, and he got set in the back seat of Arthur's car, forgoing the seatbelts in favor of lying down. 


	2. Bunker Arrival

**"When life gives you lemonade, add vodka."**

-Aminoapps.com (Omg_pie_67)

Arthur had Mick's arm slung over his shoulder and the rest of him in his arms, his legs dangling in the air. He was careful not to be rough in order to avoid aggravating the bullet wound, but it was a rather awkward position for the both of them. He was just grateful that Mick was a bit smaller than he was. It made carrying the other man easier. To top it all off, it had started raining. Hard. Arthur walked down the driveway, water sloshing about his ankles, and reached the metal door. He shifted Mick slightly to free his left hand to knock. Arthur waited patiently until he heard the click of the lock and door handle. 

"Good evening, Mr. Winchester. Might we intrude on your hospitality for the moment, please? It is a rather urgent matter," Arthur said. 

Sam gaped at him, his hazel eyes wide with shock. Then, he cleared his throat and nodded, stepping aside. 

"Y-yeah. Come in," Sam said. He ushered them in and shut the door behind them. 

"What the hell happened?" Sam asked him.

Arthur set Mick on the couch and ripped off the rest of the fabric of his colleague's ruined trousers from the knee down. He tossed it to the side. Mick whimpered softly, fingers clenched tightly on the armrest. His eyes were squeezed shut. Kneeling down on the tile, Arthur produced a ziploc bag of clean bandages and medical grade disinfectant. 

"Mick was compromised. I did what I felt was necessary to extract him from the situation. I may have executed Dr. Hess in the process, so the Men of Letters will be after the both of us for desertion at the very least. Possibly a few other charges. So I came here because it seemed to be a smart choice," Arthur explained.

He cut off the old blood soaked gauze and gently started cleaning off the blood from Mick's calf. The wound had stopped bleeding, which was good. It was a straight shot, right through muscle, avoiding any major blood vessels and the tendons. No permanent damage. Mick winced, hissing quietly through his teeth. Sam stood beside the couch and processed what he had just been told. 

"What do you mean by compromised?" Sam asked. 

"He defended you and your brother. They wished to bring the two of you in for a trial for your actions. And, well... you can ask him in a bit yourself. Pass me the scissors, please." 

Sam picked up the slender silver scissors and handed them to him. He snipped off sections of the white bandages, laying them over the wound. Arthur wrapped a new layer of gauze over the bandages, pressing the adhesive part down firmly. Mick let him maneuver his leg back onto the couch. Arthur sat back on his heels and nodded to himself. 

"You have food here, yes? Could you bring some for Mick, please?" Arthur requested politely. 

"Oh, um, sure. I'll be right back." 

Arthur kicked off his soaked shoes and socks, doing the same for his colleague. He shrugged off his jacket and undid his tie, setting them on the back of a chair. He took Mick's from him as well. Arthur ignored the way his wet clothes clung to his skin, instead going in search of blankets. He stole some from one of the bedrooms and brought them back to the living room. Sam had returned with a plate of scrambled eggs. Arthur placed the blankets on the coffee table. 

"I must get our things from the car. I shall return," he informed the younger Winchester. 

"Okay," Sam replied. 

 

After a warm meal, a change of clothes, and a small mountain of blankets, Mick was feeling a bit better. His leg still bleeding hurt, but it was numbed slightly by the weak painkillers he had swallowed. Somehow, Arthur had managed to get his suitcase from the hotel room he had been occupying and brought it with them. Well... he was Ketch after all. The man could get in or out of any room he wanted to. It didn't surprise him as much as it probably should. 

What he didn't get was  _why_ Arthur had chosen to save him. Sure, they went back pretty far, but he hadn't realized that the man actually liked him. They didn't even chat as often as they did in school. Arthur was one of the most unemotional people he had ever met and definitely had a... questionable mental state. One had to in order to do the job that he did. And Arthur was so devoted to the cause, he just didn't understand. Why jeopardize his own career, his life, just to help him? 

The other man was given a room across from his by Sam. Mick was huddled in his bed, tangled up in the blankets. His thoughts drifted off as his eyes slid shut, exhausted from the long day he had had. It was so very warm that he just couldn't stay awake. 

 

Arthur was sharpening one of his many knives when a freshly awoken Dean stumbled into the living room. He rubbed at his eyes, yawning. Dean blinked sleepily before he noticed the Brit sitting cross legged on the ground. 

"What are you doing here?" Dean demanded. Arthur smiled politely. 

"Your brother let us in last night when we arrived," Arthur replied, running the sharpener up the thin edge of the blade. 

"Right... wait, us?" Dean said. 

"Mick and I."

He walked off, presumably to go find Sam. Arthur kept performing maintenance on his weapons. 

"Sam? Why is there a British douche in our living room?" he head Dean ask from a farther area. 

Sam's response was hushed, so he missed it. 

Dean came back with a scowl on his face. Arthur looked up at him. 

"Don't mess with anything, Ketch," Dean growled. 

"What am I, a delinquent?" Arthur said, amused. 

Dean narrowed his eyes before turning on his heel and exiting the room. 


End file.
